1 Mojo bag: unfinished

Posted: May 6, 2014 in Short Story, unfinished
Tags: , , , , ,

mojo-love

Mankind’s ability to warp the purest of intents has been and will continue to be seen at the horror of its children – who whole heartedly participate in ever taught lack for compassion.

As evil is inherited so too can be purity; but only the strong have the ability to hold on.

To lack compassion is evil – to have it is divinity.

This is such a story of warped ideals and lack of basic empathic understanding. The revenge is Karma the cruelty is to be born to your revenge without the understanding of why.

A gangly balding 42 year old man skipped to work.  He wore his trusted black sweater (hides all stains) and over-sized boats for shoes for his gout was acting up.  His right ankle bore the brunt of unhealthy one dimensional eating – even so – he was skipping.

He had the fortune of meeting a witch who promised a potion of success.  This witch was overly humble.  She was divine, made perfect by her constant ability to deny such facts.   Her strength came from her connection to the ALL.  She had never believed herself – special.  She was about to get a lesson in magic.

Jack tromped though the company’s warehouse ready to see what this modern day sage had concocted.  He was having woman troubles.  He had felt love, once, just before cancer took her one quite morning.  He awoke to find her asleep – eternally.  Tammy, the witch, had seen and felt this moment.  She offered help but with one tiny condition.  He had to be objective and critical concerning the results.  She wanted to qualify its potency if any.

Tammy heard Jack toss his stuff down on the other side of her cube wall.  She grabbed the golden bag – filled with a Hodge-Podge of herbs, stones, oil, and magnetic sand.  She spent seven days meditating, focusing, channeling, burning – infusing every aspect of her correspondences to the intent.  She had made three bags – the other two… well… that’s a different story.

The greatest thing about magic is the vial it lifts over this world.  It is anything but mundane and we are anything but material.  We are eternal and home – that temporary vacation between lifetimes – that my friend is perfection.  More than that – more than all this – is magic can be seen by the unseen.  It acts like a flashlight – attracting and detracting what you set the purpose to… the tricky part is… the one thing Tammy tried to warn Jack of – was magic works both ways.  Her spirit is tied to healing energies… so in the end – even if her intent may be evil – due to the overriding strength of her soul – her abilities will always result in healing.  The problem or success of Jack’s request was first he requested it.  Now he’s on the hook.  Second he was warned – meaning Tammy’s off the hook, and thirdly his request was broad. Meaning the bored unused energies can try and join in.

Jack tossed his leather jacket on the chair as Tammy wondered around the corner of the isle.  He peeked his head out to see her lovely smile beaming good morning.  God he wanted her, but she did not want him and he knew it.  She saw him as a brother from another mother and he began to see her as the same.  Even with her busty buxom build that was anything but mannish, the curve of her wide hips and large backside made his mouth dry; she was a late 30 year old tom-boy.  Her lack of parental upbringing left her to figure out how to grow and in doing so she leaned more towards the ways of gentleman than woman.  She was as vulgar as any man except when in mixed company.   She even stood when a lady came to sit at their table.  The men laughed at her.  She just shrugged it off.  There was so much she didn’t understand concerning gender roles.

Jack found her fascinating. If they couldn’t be wed then best friends for life – he decided.  Tammy bounced over and Jack tried not to stare too much.  Tammy had become accustomed to men staring at her weighted chest.  She never thought she was even remotely attractive – she couldn’t have been anymore wrong.  She wasn’t white, blonde or blue eyed but she was a looker, with a personality to kill for.

“You got it”  he leaned in with his halitosis ridden breath.

Tammy smiled and tried not to pull back.  The sourness of the air was wretched, but she couldn’t insult her friend Jack.  She pulled a small golden bag from her side pocket.  Quickly the air switched from the scent of living rot to a perfumed sweetness she could stand.  Jack grinned.  His eagerness forced him to grab for it.  Tammy was far too fast and pulled it away in time.

“Now listen.”  She paused.  Not for effect but to wait for his mind to quiet down.  “I made yours a bit different.  Not only did I build it to attract love, prosperity, and security; but I also built it to ward off crazies, negativity, and anything harmful.”

“perfect.”  His blue eyes sparkled with the possibility of freedom.  “Goodbye Robin.”

Two years after Jack awoke to find his Hope dead – her old friend called on him… called on him and then moved in.  She practically suction cupped herself to him.  He couldn’t go to the bathroom alone – no joke – the door had to be open.  After two dates she had moved her stuff in and Jack was trying to figure out how to move her stuff out.  He was too polite.  Tammy advised him to be honest and upfront but the holidays were around the corner and he didn’t know what to do – which is where the bag comes in.

He fell in love with the scent and asked after the ingredients.  Tammy told him all and reminded him of the objective promise.  He was so happy and promised to carry it with him everywhere.  All Tammy could do was smile and return to her work on the other side of the cube.  The scent of the bag wafted over the high dull colored walls and reminded her of home.  Her own heart was breaking but that is also another story.

 

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